


Stars Cannot Wander

by Vox (Akumeoi)



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Nature Magic, Reunions, Singing, reunion will come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/Vox
Summary: How does one explain the ultimate cost of growing a heart around hate? At the core of it, Nezumi left to break down the walls of his heart, to try and change them into something thatcouldbe shaped and moulded by the things hearts were supposed to be made of: people, animals, songs, and skies. As Shion rebuilt the city from something cruel to something wise, Nezumi rebuilt himself the same way. Rebuilt a heart that was not always forced to be half-composed of suffering. A heart that was fully human.And then, he returned to No. 6.
Relationships: Nezumi/Shion (No. 6)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 70
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	Stars Cannot Wander

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



> Sumi: Thanks so much for bidding on me in the 2020 Fandom Trumps Hate auction! I tried to put my heart into this fic and I hope that it shows. 
> 
> This story makes reference to the Beyond of the light novels, but hopefully it will be understandable even for those who are not familiar with them. The comparison to fixed and wandering stars comes vaguely from “the drifter and the stationary one”. Thank you very much to Glitter for once upon a time explaining the science behind the metaphor to me. Little did we know it would one day come out in this fic. (PS: there’s an Easter Egg in here for the No. 6 Discord book club...)
> 
> Thanks to [WhiteEevee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteEevee) for the beta!

Nezumi had once compared himself to a wandering star and Shion to a fixed one. As it turned out, stars couldn’t wander. The stars which were observed to wander by early astronomers later were discovered to in fact be planets. But, neither were stars fixed. All _true_ stars followed a set course across the sky, and their planets orbited around them. Nezumi should’ve known better. If his metaphor were to hold true even in light of the advancement of science, then Shion would have been a normal star, steadfastly charting his course to the apex of his life, and Nezumi would have been orbiting him.

For the last four years, Nezumi had, indeed, been orbiting the reunion promise he had once made to Shion. Imperceptibly, of course. There was nothing visible that linked a star and a planet together, and Nezumi had done his best to forget about Shion for at least the first two years.

And yet.

He never took a lover who lasted for longer than a few weeks. He resisted the urge to cross the sea, on the grounds that there was plenty of wandering to do on this continent. He kept his hands relatively clean of most crime, even when committing it would’ve been convenient.

And then Shion’s fool of a father blundered his way into Nezumi’s life. That was the beginning of the end of Nezumi’s ability to remain in denial. Ever since then, he had been allowing the concept of _Shion_ to slowly trickle into his conscious thoughts. Inevitably, it was followed by the concept of _return_ that he had trapped himself into having to consider, as if the idea held any merit whatsoever.

It did hold merit. Nezumi orbited. It was finally time to admit that when his young heart had been severed from its natural attachment to life itself, Shion had been the one, tenuous artery that connected him to humanity, and to the world. And the fabric of that bond, the invisible gravity that held their astral bodies in check, was – well, sentiment. Maybe even love. He could admit it to himself, now.

The more he thought about it, the less fear that word seemed to hold. Fear had been one of his primary motivators for leaving No. 6, but something had clearly changed within him. Truthfully examining each memory and belief he held was like pulling thorns out of tender flesh. But the grip of the vines of fear binding him wasn’t as tight as it had been four years ago.

And so. After a little while of this, Nezumi packed up his bags and started the return trip to No. 6.

It was a crisp spring morning when he arrived at the city. The sun hung low and pale in the morning sky as Nezumi finally observed for himself what had become of No. 6. It seemed that after the destruction caused by Elyurias, the wall had further been broken down. Although parts of it still stood, the city spilled out through the massive holes between those jagged, broken bits. Not just houses and buildings spilled out, but trees and plants as well, a patchwork of grey and brown for the roofs of houses interspersed with green. It was a far more natural shape for a human habitation – sprawling and organic – than the perfectly circular wall had been.

Nezumi made sure to enter the city via the West Block side, not because he was particularly curious about what had become of his old home, but because he knew that he’d be able to judge the city’s advancements – or lack thereof – the best by judging what had happened to its poorest quarter. To his pleasant surprise, he found that although West Block still looked far from luxurious, it was much cleaner and the people living there didn’t have skin-and-bone wolves inside their eyes anymore. The buildings looked sturdier, more like permanent fixtures, and the smell of wretched humanity that had been one of the most iconic features of the old West Block was gone. There were even plants growing here and there.

 _Kudos, Shion_ , Nezumi thought to himself.

When he passed the old boundary between the West Block and the city proper, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to enter. Anyone could just walk in, now. No more guns and guards and death. The Correctional Facility and the Moondrop were no longer standing, although it looked like there was some construction on the site of the Moondrop taking place.

Nezumi’s overall impression of the city was that it was one much freer than what had been there before. The people did not have oppressed, secretive looks, nor did they frown on him for his worn travelling clothes. The atmosphere matched that of other free villages and settlements Nezumi had stumbled upon in his travels. It seemed that Shion had kept his promise to fix No. 6.

Nezumi had decided that he was going to enter Shion’s house through Shion’s front door. No stupid theatrics with windows and storms. Given that he’d once seen Shion shoot a man and had no idea what sort of person Shion had become since, he didn’t want to give him cause to think Nezumi might be a burglar. Instead, he put his wanderer’s skills to good use and figured out where Shion’s address was simply by asking the right suckers.

Shion lived in a nice but not opulent neighbourhood, in a rowhouse at the end of a long line of identical grey rowhouses. There were flowers in the window boxes, very suburban. Nezumi knocked. He should have been full of turbulent emotions, but he couldn’t really feel anything except anticipation.

The door opened, and there stood Shion. His white hair, red eyes, and red scar were even more vivid and shocking than they were in Nezumi’s memory. Shion looked like a fey creature poised to take flight. Then his features crumpled into an all-too-human expression of shock and he became real again, became _Shion_.

“Nezumi – it’s you!” Shion’s voice was full of emotion, but instead of advancing he hovered fretfully in the doorway. He was so clearly afraid to act that his hesitance was painful to watch.

Nezumi opened his arms. “What are you waiting for? Attack me.” He half expected Shion to do just that, and braced for a punch or a slap to the face. Instead, Shion rushed forward and gave him a hug that was more like a tackle.

Giving a little _oof_ as all the breath was knocked out of him, Nezumi accepted Shion’s arms around his torso and their chests colliding painfully together. Re-steadied on his feet, he raised his arms and hugged Shion back. He couldn’t help but be stupidly relieved that Shion seemed happy to see him. Nezumi would have understood if he wasn’t.

Shion hugged Nezumi for, Nezumi suspected, as long as Shion thought he could get away with. Finally, he drew back ever-so-slightly. For a moment, their faces hovered just inches apart, and Nezumi giddily thought that Shion was about to kiss him. But then Shion let go and drew back further still, a sigh lingering in the air between him.

“I missed you,” Shion said, eyes crinkling at the corners in one of his too-warm smiles. Nezumi found that it didn’t hurt to look at half as much as he had expected.

“Me too,” Nezumi said gravely, as Shion looked Nezumi up and down.

Nezumi knew how he looked: hair grown longer and face fully matured, clothes that were worn but much sturdier and more serviceable than the ones he’d owned at the time he’d last been in No. 6. As for Shion, he was the same – still Shion, but a more mature version of himself. A wearier one, too, judging by the shadows under his eyes – what was that about? The most surprising thing about his appearance was that Shion had grown his hair out so that it brushed just past his shoulders. He had made an attempt to put his hair up with Nezumi’s own characteristic knot, but Nezumi could tell just from looking at it that he hadn’t really figured it out yet.

“Nezumi, you’re beautiful,” Shion blurted out.

 _Think before you speak._ Taking his own advice, Nezumi refrained from making a snide remark.

“And you haven’t changed,” he said, startled by the intensity of the fondness in his own voice.

Shion’s expression changed again, and he looked slightly uncomfortable. “Would you like to come in?” he said, gesturing inside the house.

“Certainly,” Nezumi agreed, following Shion inside.

The living area that the door opened into was neat and clean, and even had a few photos on the walls and ornaments on the surfaces, but it didn’t look too lived-in. Nezumi wondered how long Shion had been living here and if the whole house was like this.

“Would you like something to drink? Can I take your bag? Have you travelled a long way?” Shion asked.

 _Getting all the pleasantries over with in one go_ , Nezumi thought wryly.

“Water, yes, and of course,” Nezumi replied, handing Shion his bag. Shion took it as carefully as if he suspected it were packed full of gold, but then laid it directly on the sofa as if he had nothing else to do with it.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing Nezumi into another room, which turned out to be a kitchen. Nezumi leaned against a wall and watched as Shion collected a glass of water for him. The kitchen, at least, seemed used – china dishes in the rack by the sink, woven rag placemats on the table.

After handing Nezumi his glass of water, Shion simply stood there, unabashedly watching him.

Raising an eyebrow at him, Nezumi set the glass down on the counter.

“Nezumi...” Shion said, taking a deep breath. “You’re wrong. I _have_ changed.” He paused, then looked down. “I don’t know if it’s for the better. I don’t know if you’ll like how I am now.”

Nezumi thought about how he’d once asked Shion never to change. Yet he’d known that Shion changing was inevitable, and he’d known that it would be his fault. Although it jarred him to hear Shion say that he had changed, and in such a dispirited tone, he would be a coward if he walked away from a situation – a hurt – which he’d had a hand in creating. That was the sort of thing he’d just spent four years trying to learn _not_ to do.

“I’ve changed too,” he said simply. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll meet you where you are."

Some of Shion’s tension seemed to melt away, and he gave Nezumi a sheepish look. “You know, for the longest time I was so afraid you left _because_ I changed. I thought it was my fault, because I couldn’t be the person you needed me to be.”

Ah, so Shion wanted to get into the big questions right away. Nezumi was prepared for that – of course. He’d be a disgrace to the theatre if he never rehearsed anything, even if a conversation required a good deal more honesty and improv than a script.

“No, Shion. You never changed. I realised that my perception of you was wrong for a long time. I’m the one who wasn’t strong enough. It wasn’t anything you did.”

“Then why...” Shion took a deep breath, then ploughed relentlessly on, “What was the real reason you left?”

 _Corpse, rot, stench, blood. Death hymns that don’t stop. War, child. Unearthly forest music, calling him out of his mind._ _The cracking of the concrete as No. 6 fell, like the snapping of the bones of a living giant._

“I panicked. Occam’s razor.”

Shion shook his head. “I need to know more. Please.”

How do you explain the ultimate cost of growing a heart around hate? The walls of Nezumi’s young heart had formed to encompass a hatred the size and shape of a city. When No. 6 fell, the core of his heart had caved in on itself like a supernova collapsing into a black hole, leaving only empty walls. And though the stone and metal walls that had contained the living city were destroyed, the walls of his heart were not made to break down. The space between them was a void that would only fit one thing, a thing which was gone forever. Nezumi had become more hole than heart.

There was only one thing in Nezumi’s world that could match the power of No. 6. _The warmth of a hand, the taste of sweet chocolate and tart cake, rain on a roof, a shared, precious bed, laughter._ And that thing was called Shion. But a heart made empty of hate isn’t a space prepared for love, and though Shion was the wrong shape to fill him, he was equally as terrifying as No. 6.

A hatred so big a life could be founded on it, Nezumi understood. An admiration that big? Unfathomable and paralysing. It would’ve been a violence to try and fill himself up with Shion, and incredibly foolish to simply exchange one monolith for another. So Nezumi had been left in turmoil.

At the core of it, he left to break down the walls of his heart. He left to shrink that hole and change those walls to something that _could_ be changed and moulded by the things hearts were supposed to be made of: many people, many places. Animals, beings, things. Songs and trees and skies. As Shion would rebuild the city from something cruel to something wise, Nezumi would rebuild himself the same way. Would rebuild a heart that was not always forced to be half-composed of suffering. A heart that was fully human.

All of these ideas were far too big to explain in words aloud, although heaven knew Nezumi had tried.

Nezumi folded his arms. “I left because there was nothing left for me here. And I know what you’re going to say. _You_ were here. But I was afraid of you because...” He took a breath, hoping that it wasn’t too obvious. “You were just as important as No. 6 to me, and I didn’t understand it.”

Something about Nezumi’s voice or expression must have resonated with Shion, because his expression softened. After a moment he said, “That’s difficult for me to understand, but I want to.” There was weight in his ruby-red eyes, transfixing Nezumi where he stood. Nezumi had no doubt that under the full force of Shion’s attention he’d be dissected and understood before he could even say “stars can’t wander”.

“If I...” Shion continued. His eyes widened. “Wait a minute. Since you came back, does that mean... that I’m not as important to you anymore?”

“No,” Nezumi said, startled. “The opposite conclusion, airhead. It means that now I want to understand.”

Shion’s eyes widened, and then started to fill with tears. Raising one arm, he scrubbed the tears away with the back of his sweater sleeve. “Huh,” he said. “I didn’t know I was waiting to hear you say that, but I guess I was. I’m always learning new things about myself whenever you’re around.”

Finally unfolding himself from the awkward lean he’d got going on up against the wall, Nezumi came over to Shion and raised a hand to cup Shion’s chin. Shion took a deep breath and let it out through his nose, and shivered as he swallowed all of his tears.

“Wait,” he said, taking Nezumi’s hand and clasping it for a moment before removing it from his face. “I don’t want you to be here on false pretences. I need you to know something.”

“You’re seeing someone?” Nezumi said neutrally, even as his heart gave a stab of pain in protest.

“What? No. I’ve never been interested in anyone the way I’m interested in you, so I never dated.”

Nezumi didn’t miss Shion’s use of the present tense and tried to pretend like he wasn’t relieved.

“It’s about what I said before,” Shion continued. “I... I’m thinking of taking a break from the Restructural Committee. I don’t know if that’s breaking my promise to you or to Safu. It’s just that... all these things I have to do to try and make the city good are always stopped by criminals, and because of the stuff I have to do to stop _them_ , I don’t know... if I can keep going like this without becoming, you know... evil.” Shion finished in a mumble.

Some past or alternate Nezumi might have laughed at Shion’s seriousness over such an absurd concept, or told Shion that he was basically born evil, anyway. But this Nezumi’s heart simply ached.

 _Why did I think it was a good idea to tell him to take over the government?_ Nezumi mentally berated himself. Part of it had been because Shion was the person he had trusted and had had the most faith in. How naïve of him to think one person could be the sole architect of the world.

“Evil people don’t care if they’re evil or not. They only care if they _look_ evil to others,” Nezumi said, looking intently at Shion and willing him to believe it.

Shion smiled wanly. “Mom said something like that too, but... I don’t know. I thought you’d be angry with me,” he admitted. “I promised to be the one to fix No. 6. Is it really okay for me to just quit?”

“You thought _I’d_ be angry with you?” Nezumi shook his head. “You truly are something else. I expected you to eviscerate me the second I walked through your door.”

“I’m not _that_ violent—”

“Emotionally.”

“Oh. Well, no. I was angry for a while, but I’m not anymore. I needed to understand that you leaving wasn’t an act against me. I thought you abandoned me when I needed you, but I know that’s not true. You left for your own reasons. If you could have stayed, you would have.”

“Yes,” Nezumi said, nodding. “Well, I owe you the benefit of the doubt too.”

A benefit he had so seldom given to anyone, but one that Shion, of all people, had most richly earned and deserved.

“Oh,” Shion said, and the set of his shoulders relaxed again. He let out a long, deep exhale. It was almost like Shion had been waiting for Nezumi to return specifically so he could put down the burden he was carrying.

“Shion,” Nezumi said softly. He would not leave Shion to suffer because of how bitter a person he’d used to be. The blood rushed in his ears, but he forced the words out all the same. “I won’t apologise for leaving because I had to. But I _did_ abandon you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Tears welled up in Shion’s eyes again. Anticipating what was coming, Nezumi pulled Shion to him just in time for Shion to sob.

“Yes, yes,” he said, wincing inwardly as he patted Shion on the back. Shion cried for both a mercifully short time and a torturous eternity. Nezumi used the opportunity to study the kitchen cabinets and find them wanting in terms of aesthetic design. If they got a little bit blurry for a moment, well, it was just that they were so truly mediocre that it made him want to weep.

Shion’s sobs died down to hiccoughs. “I told myself I wouldn’t cry,” he complained, voice muffled by Nezumi’s shirt.

Blinking rapidly, Nezumi gave a little cough and cleared his throat. “You always were so overdramatic,” he sighed.

Shion laughed around his hiccoughs. “Takes one to know one.”

Nezumi rolled his eyes. Grabbing his glass of water from the counter, he shoved it under Shion’s nose until Shion got the hint and drank enough water to stop hiccoughing.

“My levels of drama are perfectly acceptable for someone of my profession,” he said, as Shion slurped water down.

“Leaving No. 6 and me right after we destroyed it and taking four years to find yourself is acceptable levels of drama to you?” Shion said, setting the glass back on the counter and raising an eyebrow. His face was a little bit splotchy, and he grabbed a paper napkin from the table and proceeded to start cleaning himself up with it.

“Touché,” Nezumi complained, his heart giving a little twinge.

“It’s okay,” Shion said, depositing his napkin in a trash can under the sink, then coming back over to Nezumi. “In a way, it’s a good thing you waited this long to come back, because I needed that time too. To come to terms with what happened, so it was possible for me to be this calm now that you’ve come back, and accept that whatever happens now, happens.”

A part of Nezumi had wondered if maybe he had waited too long and shouldn’t bother to come back at all. But the part of him that was honest knew that there was no way Shion would have actually forgotten him. They were too strongly drawn to each other. But Shion could’ve _chosen_ to forget, and that would’ve been in some ways the end of him.

“I’m glad,” Nezumi said, surprising himself again with the ease with which honest sentiment was escaping his lips.

“Me too.” Shion smiled for a moment, but then the expression vanished, to be replaced with concern. Shion took a breath. “So, um... what _did_ you come back for? Are you going to stay... long?”

The moment of truth. Time for Nezumi to really spill his guts. His heart pounded. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he said. “I want to stay, but we both know I’m not suited to it. So I’ll stay as long as I can, and if I have to leave again, I’ll warn you in advance. I’ll tell you why I’m going, this time, and when I’ll try to be back – and that’s a promise.”

Shion let out the breath he had been holding. “That sounds wonderful,” he said so earnestly that Nezumi’s heart stuttered and he was tempted to look away. “But just so you know...” And now it was Shion who looked away. “I’ll probably need some time. I don’t... trust like I used to.”

 _My fault._ “I understand.”

Nezumi cupped Shion’s cheek with one hand. Shion looked up at him, his eyes wide and his cheeks a little bit pink. Then, Nezumi kissed him.

_Invisible bonds. Gravity. Planets whirling madly around the sun._

_Soft lips, promises, leavings and reunions._

_Heavens moving, Earth standing still._

⁂

_Coda: Reunionsong_

Shion closed the front door, then turned to the living room with a smile. Lying on the couch with one knee propped up, nose-deep in _Wizard’s Hall_ by Jane Yolen, Nezumi completely ignored the fact that Shion had just arrived home. Yet Shion still felt exhilarated every time he looked at him. Three weeks later, and Nezumi was still here, in his house. _Real_.

Of course, Nezumi did not spend _all day_ at his house. After learning that the local theatre was not taking auditions at the moment, Nezumi had condescended to take a job as a humble stagehand until auditions for _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ opened in another week or two.

“How’d it go?” Nezumi said, shutting the book with a deft motion.

Shion grinned. He felt so light he could fly away. “I did it. All the paperwork’s in order. No more Restructural Committee for me!”

Nezumi gave a slight smile. “And now you’re a bread slave for the rest of your days?”

Shion laughed. “Yes, I’ll be working at the bakery. Mom is fine with it.”

To Shion’s vast relief, Karan had actually agreed to trade jobs with him for a little while. One of his biggest concerns was that his absence from the Restructural Committee would mean that the less above-board members of the Committee would run wild in his absence. Knowing someone he trusted would be there to take care of things while he was gone was a big relief. Karan had never been eager to go into politics, but she knew that oversight was crucial, perhaps even more than Shion did.

And it would be fun to run the bakery for a little while. Shion was _so_ looking forward to it.

“Good. Let’s go,” Nezumi said, putting his book down.

“Go? Go where?” Shion said, perplexed.

Languidly, Nezumi stood, stretching and rolling his head from side to side as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Go,” he repeated, then pointed at his rucksack, which was sitting on an armchair opposite the sofa. “Grab my bag, will you?”

Obediently, Shion picked the bag up, but his heart was pounding. Was Nezumi about to leave? Why? Had he done something wrong?

“What’s in the bag?” Shion asked, swallowing.

Some of his fear must have shown on his face, because Nezumi gave him a reassuring, raised-eyebrow smile and said, “Dinner. It’s just dinner. Don’t give me that face. We’re going to the forest. Hop to it.”

“Wait a minute, should I change?”

Nezumi sighed as if annoyed, but Shion could tell that he wasn’t serious. “Yes, yes. Go, go,” Nezumi said dismissively, waving his hand in the direction of Shion’s room.

Shion quickly ran to his room, peeled out of his work clothes – yes! – and put on a short-sleeved blue button-down shirt, some casual slacks, and red, rubber-soled tennis shoes instead. At the last minute, he thought to grab a light cardigan in case they were out for more than a few hours.

Nezumi wanted to have a picnic in the forest? Shion had no idea where this was going, and he was starting to feel a little excited at the unknown of it all.

When he arrived back in the living room, he found Nezumi waiting with the rucksack on his back. Nezumi looked him over and nodded in approval. “Very good. Let’s go.”

With that, the two of them left the house, heading through the idyllic, suburban streets of No. 6 towards the forest. Shion had been on a sub-committee to help restore it, and was quite proud of how well it was doing now. Though it was clearly a young forest with only a small land area, it had a stable foundation to someday flourish back into the ancient forest that had once stood there.

As they walked, Nezumi made light conversation with Shion about their respective jobs. He refused to answer any questions or give any hints as to what his intentions were. Shion asked anyway, partly because he couldn’t not indulge his curious nature, and partly to give Nezumi a hard time. Bantering with Nezumi these days had taken on a much lighter tone than it had in the past, and he enjoyed it simply for the intellectual stimulation, and to watch Nezumi become expressive when he talked.

Shion had changed since that day four years ago when Nezumi walked away from him. There had been a lot of things that Shion was no longer sure about, including parts of himself. But it was moments like these that made it feel like, for all the things that had changed, his friendship – his partnership – with Nezumi was somehow still the same. The invisible connection he’d felt to this mysterious stranger all those years ago was still just as strong and compelling as before. A part of Shion had worried that it wouldn’t be. That part of Shion clearly just liked to borrow trouble.

When they arrived at the wood, Nezumi’s posture and gait changed to a sort of forced-march that Shion was a bit hard pressed to keep up with.

“Slow down,” Shion panted.

“Habit,” Nezumi said. Shion supposed that this pace was how Nezumi had been able to cross a continent, but it wasn’t well suited for their more leisurely stroll amongst the young, green trees.

Ultimately, Nezumi led Shion to a grassy glade on the forest’s furthest edge away from the city. As it was a late afternoon in late spring, the sun was just starting to threaten to set as Nezumi retrieved one of Shion’s rugs from his bag and set it on the ground for them to sit on, right in front of a big stand of early grass, which had already grown to around a foot tall. Shion sighed internally when he saw the purloined rug, but sat down on it without complaint. All around them on three sides, young trees crowded, and in front of them could be seen a strip of sky looking out over the wasteland that surrounded No. 6.

Nezumi set his rucksack down beside the rug, then sat down beside Shion.

“This place is close to where my family used to live,” he commented.

“Yes, I...” Shion started. He’d known Nezumi would eventually comment on this, but it still wasn’t easy to talk about. “I know that I can’t... fix anything that happened to your people, or bring them back. A few trees won’t change what happened and how horrible it was. But I wanted them to have a better memorial than some wasteland, to show respect for them... and for you. There were just a lot of reasons to replant the forest.”

“All very good, like most of your committee work,” Nezumi said, and Shion glowed with relief and pride. “However, it has come to my attention that your cultural education is lacking.”

“I’m sure it is,” Shion said, interested. Usually declarations like that from Nezumi preceded interesting things like books and monologues.

“Yes. You’ve only ever heard one of the Forest People’s songs.”

“The funeral lament?”

“That’s right,” Nezumi said. “I’ve decided to sing another one for you. A song of life this time. It’s for establishing and celebrating ties, which are responsible for creating and building life. It’s not just sung when people fall in love. It’s also sung for children being born or adopted, or even for best friends if their bond is strong enough.”

Although Nezumi was speaking in an airy, cool tone, as if his only goal was simply to inform Shion of an interesting part of his people’s culture, Shion could tell that what he was saying actually meant a great deal to him. Nezumi rarely shared things from his culture, so every tidbit he shared was precious to Shion, and he knew that it was precious to Nezumi too.

“I’d love to hear it,” Shion said earnestly.

Nezumi got up, then kneeled opposite Shion, right beside the stand of grass. He pinched one leaf off at the base and picked it from the plant. Then, he began to sing.

_The wind is of the soul and the earth is of the heart  
_ _O earth that nurtures life  
_ _Hear my song and accept it  
_ _Like a seed cradled underground  
_ _Let my words be planted  
_ _Let them flourish and grow fruit  
_ _O earth, land, forest, trees_  
_Cover me in your green shade  
_ _And we will dwell here together_

Nezumi sang the song twice, and as he sang he continued to pluck grasses from their bases, weaving them together to form two circlets. The first circlet he placed on his own head at the end of the first rendition. The second he passed to Shion as he sang the song a second time. Shion, enraptured, barely knew what to do with it. As he continued singing, Nezumi gently guided Shion’s hand to his own head until Shion got the hint and put the grass circlet on.

As soon as the circlet touched his head, Shion felt a shiver go through his body. He was rooted to the earth, as if he were a stem of grass himself. He saw Nezumi before him, also rooted and connected to not only the earth but to him, through the air and through the ground. Seeing this felt like seeing the face of god, but the vision only lasted for a moment before Nezumi closed his mouth as the song ended.

The wind rustled the grasses. The world seemed new and bright, like every leaf and bit of bark had been brought into new clarity. For a moment, Shion felt at one with the world, no more or less than a little forest mouse scampering through the brush.

Then, the feeling faded and he awoke in reality to see Nezumi was sitting beside him again, hiding his face.

“Nezumi, that was beautiful,” Shion said with a hushed, awed voice. “I already thought your singing was amazing, but that... it’s like you’ve become even more amazing since you’ve been away.”

“Vocabulary,” Nezumi said, his voice muffled through his hand.

“Enchanting... incredible... marvellous...” Shion pondered, trying to find a better word to express all that he was feeling.

“Please stop, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Nezumi straightened up and dropped his hand from his face. Shion smiled at him, and Nezumi snorted, shaking his head. “This is the first time anyone’s ever heard that song, and that’s the reception I get?”

Shion started. “I thought you said it was a Forest Person song?”

“It was,” Nezumi replied. “The wind brought the tune to me, but I never learnt the words as a child. So I made new ones.”

At first, Shion’s heart ached, as he realised as he did every so often the depths of what Nezumi had been robbed of as a child. But Nezumi had made his own lyrics, had made them –

 _For me_ , Shion realised, suddenly breathless. This song was a blend of what had been lost and what had been gained, and Nezumi had gifted the first rendition of it to him.

Now he felt tears threaten to overwhelm him again. Nezumi smacked him in the arm.

“Please, no more crying,” Nezumi said in a long-suffering tone. “There’s been quite enough of that lately. No more crying, or I will never sing for you again.” Nezumi levelled Shion with his best glare, but Shion just laughed weakly and shook his head, not believing Nezumi in the slightest.

“No, no crying,” Shion said, blinking until the tears receded. “I just… thank you.”

He smiled at Nezumi, who gave a gentle smile back. But then it was gone so fast that Shion barely knew if he really had seen it.

“You know, within my tribe the song was usually sung by two people, but I sang your part because you don’t know it, and I’m pretty sure you can’t sing,” Nezumi declared. Shion was pretty sure that the song was part of his bones now, if it hadn’t been to begin with – he was never going to forget a word. But it was true that he was terrible at all performing arts except for public speaking, so he didn’t argue with Nezumi’s smug assertion that he probably couldn’t sing.

“Thank you,” Shion said again, meekly.

“Yes, yes, I am the fount from which all good things flow,” Nezumi said, waving one hand as he reached for his bag with the other. From it he pulled a few containers of sandwiches and baked goods likely coaxed out of Karan, then a large bottle of water.

“I would have liked to have brought wine, but you’d be hopeless in ten minutes if I did. I’d like you to remain in possession of what few faculties you normally do have, so I don’t have to carry you back to town or leave you unconscious in the grass, so you get water,” Nezumi said, placing the bottle between them.

Shion laughed. With that, their normal, everyday banter resumed. The moment of song had passed, but Shion would never forget it. He was changed, now, for carrying those words and that moment in his memory and in his body.

Together they ate Nezumi’s picnic, then lingered together on the rug, watching the sun set. At some point Shion tilted his head and leaned against Nezumi’s shoulder, and they were quiet for a little while.

Nezumi pointed to Venus, the evening star, already shining brightly in the west. “That’s me,” he said, then pointed at the sky where the sun’s blush was fading on the horizon. “That’s you.”

Shion frowned, trying to understand the comparison. “I get why you’re the “Eve-ning” star, but why am I a bit of pink sky?” he complained.

“It’s not a star and that’s not the sky,” Nezumi said, a smile on his lips.

“I know, it’s really the planet Venus, but everyone calls it a star. I still don’t understand the other thing. Are you trying to point at the sun?” Shion squinted at Nezumi in confusion.

“One day, you’ll understand, O Eternally Stubborn One. May your radiance shine forever,” Nezumi said.

“Huh?”

Nezumi laughed, and wouldn’t explain, and Shion loved him in all of his mystery.

And so a planet orbited a star, and so they travelled the sky together.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always welcome!


End file.
